i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
Conversation has always come easy to him. A diplomatic trait, to be sure, even if he is someone few would consider a diplomat, much less a good one. He is too reckless for that, too invested in curiosity to limit himself to what one might consider safe. Reave may be able to recognize the easy grace of someone who has a great deal of experience in threading the thin line of diplomacy, but that does not mean he seeks to traverse it himself.
Yet she does not seem to mind his prying conversation. And if he has developed any true sense of equine-nature over his relatively few years, he would guess it’s because she wants something in return.
Of course, he’s hardly an expert on Baltian nature, so maybe the point is moot.
He chuckles at her pithy response, appreciating the wit that’s rare even among his own kind. “I don’t suppose you would,” he replies easily, vibrant eyes gleaming. She presses on easily enough, asking a question of her own. Her dry humor brings a grin to his lips even as one masked brow lifts. “Truly shocking,” he agrees, tone as sardonic as hers, lips stretching with his humor. “And I suppose you will be equally shocked to learn that we call this place simply ‘the river’.”
“And in case you were looking for more detail, we’re quite near ‘the forest’ and ‘the meadow’.” With a laugh, he quickly scans their surroundings before returning his gaze to her, blue eyes bright. “Quite original, wouldn’t you say?”
reave
@Rezza